Overkill
by sea102883
Summary: PostNJO AUJaina tries to decide what to do with her life.


**Title**: Overkill  
**Author**: sea102883 (aka BigFatty)  
**Timeframe**: Post-NJO AU  
**Characters**: Jaina Solo, Jagged Fel  
**Summary**: Two years after the vong War ended, Jaina tries to decide what to do with her life.  
**Disclaimer**: I own nothing relating to Star Wars, that's all George Lucas, not me.  
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As usual, she was exhausted; as usual, sleep escaped her. If she wasn't helping the Alliance cobble together fighter squadrons from what was left after the war, she was running around the galaxy on missions for the Council. Jaina Solo should be asleep, but her mind was not listening to her body.

Part of her was glad she couldn't sleep; with sleep comes dreams. These were the times when she despised her Jedi heritage. What she wouldn't give for one night where she could simply sleep. Sleep and maybe remember what she dreamed, instead of reliving it throughout the day with her enhanced memory. And if she were able to remember her dreams, she wouldn't have to worry whether or not they held significant meanings. She would know they were just dreams and not premonitions.

Today was an anniversary, the anniversary of their first kiss. Inevitably she would dream of him tonight. Maybe she would be lucky and she would relive that kiss. But even that thought carried an amount of pain. Every day between twilight and dawn she was assaulted with "what ifs". What if she had gone with him to Csilla? What if they had kept in touch after the war? What if she hadn't turned her back on him?

* * *

She didn't know where he was, somewhere in the Unknown Regions was the best she could do. He had been named Ambassador, then quietly pulled back into Chiss space without reason. Her pessimistic mind kept gnawing at her. What would be so important that would cause him to disappear so quickly? She tried to convince herself that it was just the Chiss overreacting, but part of her wondered if they weren't.

What if he was sent into battle and was killed? Would she know? What if he had been dead for months and she didn't know? Were the dreams that haunted her nights with visions of them as a couple, decorating a home, raising children the Force taunting her and punishing her for her mistakes?

She tried to convince herself that nothing had happened to him. Nothing bad anyway. Even if she didn't feel, Wedge would know and would tell her. Or would he withhold information if he thought that she had broken his nephew's heart? No, only enemy pilots saw that vicious side of Wedge Antilles. She was his hold daughter, he would tell her.

She tossed and turned between the sheets begging sleep to come if only to quell the questions attacking her mind. Yet it never came.

* * *

She had no idea how many times she had repeated the actions. She would sit down at the comm station fully prepared to send a "hello". Sometimes she even got a message recorded, but she could never bring herself together to hit "send". There was no way she would chance a live conversation with him, it would have to be text-only.

Most days she would do after seeing Tahiri. Although the young woman had moved on from her history with Anakin, both women knew Tahiri's love for him would never die. Jaina knew if Anakin were still around he'd have force his sister to send a message to Jag. She kept waiting for a blue specter to show up in her bedroom and lecture her on how she was still alive and lucky enough to have the chance to be with those she loved.

Instead the only ghosts that visited her were of the future. Ghosts of what her life would be if she continued down her current path: endless missions with the Council until she was worthy of a seat on it. Or they would be of endless missions with fighter pilots mopping up whatever evil lurked in the galaxy. Both were monotonous; while to a casual observer who only knew Jaina from the holonet, they would seem like the perfect lives for her.

But those who actually knew her would tell you that nothing could be farther from the truth. It was the other type of ghosts from the future that were true to her soul, and therefore more frightening. Those days would be monotonous too: helping children with their homework, attempting to cook meals, ironing her husband's uniforms. But it was a monotony she would relish.

She wondered which ghost would become her future and which one would either haunt her or make her grateful for what she had.

* * *

It was a habit she'd picked up from her father when he was in his insomniac stages—roaming the streets at night looking for a cantina that served some decent alcohol. She'd find one, go to a dark corner, a pay a lucky bartender a tip equal to a month's wages. She never got drunk, just enough liquid to burn her esophagus for a while.

While there she would subtly people watch. She would imagine what their lives must be outside the four walls of the establishment. Were they happy? Were they there to drink away painful memories? Were they insomniacs as well?

She seemed to be asking enough questions lately that she wondered if she and Jacen hadn't exchanged minds somehow. But at least it was something to occupy her time. If she was busy imaging what other people's lives were like then she wouldn't have to think about her own.

She wouldn't be wondering if the red flashing light on her comm station would be blinking when she got back telling her she had a message. She wouldn't be looking at the chrono on the wall and converting the hours to Chiss time. She wouldn't wonder whether he hated or loved her.

So instead she turned her attention to the older man with the green shirt and began her new game.

* * *

While Denon wasn't Coruscant, it was still busy enough to keep people distracted. You still had to close the blinds on your windows at night to block out the neon advertising outside. She didn't close her blinds; she knew she wouldn't be sleeping anyway. She had been able to sleep for the past two nights, but today she had overheard another officer mention something about receiving a report from the Unknown Regions.

Part of her mind kept telling her that there was more to the Unknown Regions than Chiss space. It could be about Zonama Sekot—quit worrying and go to sleep. But the other part of her mind was going at full speed attempting to bring her as much anxiety as her Jedi calming skills could battle.

What if he had been renamed Ambassador? The Chiss had yet to appoint one and send them to Denon. What if was on his way here? Granted the government headquarters were on the other side of the planet, but it would be only a matter of time before one of them grew curious and crossed the distance.

What would she say? Would she be able to find her voice? Could she even make eye contact with him? Wedge would deny it to his death, but she knew that he thought she had hurt his nephew's heart. Had Syal sent him a message detailing her son's moping and broken heart? Would Jag mope? Probably not. He would walk around with a stiff upper lip until he was in private and then maybe then he might frown a little.

She wondered how much more she could take before her patience snapped from the overkill of too many questions and too little sleep.

* * *

It was four in the morning. She had been torturing herself for months and was about to leave on a mission for the Council that could take weeks. She needed her sleep. Fed up with the civil war going on inside of her mind, she headed over to the comm station. She was glad the message would be text-only. Despite what he might feel for her now, she knew he would worry if he saw her hair in disarray and the large sacks under her eyes.

She knocked down a shot of whiskey and quietly laughed at herself for picking up another habit from her father. It seemed almost a tradition for him to sneak some whiskey he was about to do something that scared him. She sighed and began to type.

"Jag-

I try to think of greetings to insert here, but nothing seems to fit, so I'll cut to the power source.

When I said I wasn't ready to meet your family two years ago, it didn't mean that I wanted to get rid of you. I needed to catch my breath. I needed to see what my life had become after the war. I didn't know who I was, so how could I have presented myself to your parents so they could get to know me?

I never meant to lose contact with you. I don't know how it happened, well, yes I do. After thinking about things for a while I realized where my life needed to go. It needs to be with yours. I say that in the present tense, but you may have moved on and sealed thoughts of me in the past.

I was scared. I've been independent forever and for me to acknowledge that I need a wingman outside of my cockpit was terrifying. So I ran and hid, what a mistake.

I don't know what your life is like now, but if there is any room in it for me, I would gladly take it. Whether you want me there or not is up to you, and I would understand either way. I'm just tired of debating what my life could be. I need to know what it will be.

Please don't think you have to hurry with your response. I leave tomorrow on a mission for the Council and will be gone for 4 weeks minimum. Don't worry, nothing dangerous, just some… well I'm too tired to remember right now, but it will be easy and harmless.

I hope you are well, and that your family is as well. I'm sure if Wedge and Iella knew I was writing this they would send along their greetings, so take them anyway.

I miss you Jag.

-Jaina"

* * *

The problem with being gone for a month in the Outer Rim was that you were in the middle of nowhere, stuck haggling over some trade dispute between two backwater planets. Her uncle had decided that she was taking on too many dangerous missions and had decided to give her one that would be a piece of ryshcate. She wondered if he had assigned her the mission as a practical joke or as a punishment. She was most certainly not the diplomat of the family, but she gave it the best shot she could and things had turned out reasonably well.

She could've checked her messages while she was out there, but she could also chalk it up to poor signal strength and leave her inbox alone. She chose the latter. The questions threatened to rise in her mind again about what would happen. Had he gotten her message? What would he say? She tossed and turned wondering if she was going to be an insomniac for the rest of her life.

The day she returned from her mission she was debriefed by the Council, had dinner with her parents, and returned to her apartment. Perhaps it was the excitement of being among civilization again that caused her to be able to fall asleep within seconds of entering her temporary home. Whatever it was, she didn't notice the red flashing light until morning. She glanced through her inbox to see who had left messages in her absence. At least that's what she tried to convince herself she was doing, really she was looking for the "Fel, Colonel Jagged" to appear in the column of Senders. And there it was. The message and the reason she decided 0800 was not too early in the morning for alcohol. She downed her shot and opened the message.

"Jaina-"


End file.
